Creation Myths
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Complete. Post-epish entity for Heartland, focusing on the team's theories about Gibbs' coming into being. Hint, none of them were really talking about Gibbs. In six parts.
1. Avatar of Vishnu

Disclaimer: If I claim to own NCIS, I will be placed in the comfy chair until lunchtime, with only a cup of coffee at eleven.

Spoilers: Minor mini-spoilers for _Heartland_. Just the pre-road trip squad room conversation.

Summary: I found it amusing that the team's descriptions of how Gibbs came into being were not actually about Gibbs. These are six mostly unconnected incidents in which Gibbs observes…things.

* * *

Tony squatted beside the Marine corporal's body on the sidewalk, snapping pictures. "Looks kinda personal, huh, boss?"

Gibbs frowned as he looked down at the mangled face of the dead man, having just walked away from interviewing a shaky eyewitness who thought she could recognize the attacker. "Ya think?"

"Well, he let someone get close enough to jam a switchblade through his eye and, uh, into his brain."

"Quite right, Tony," Ducky confirmed, his gloves snapping as he removed them. "And before he died, as well. I can't be entirely certain until Cpl. Foster and I become better acquainted whether the cause of death was the knife or the bullet wound in his chest, but a blade driven through the orbital plate into the frontal lobe could cause instant death or a variety of other consequences, depending on the exact length and angle of the blade. It really is a question of luck, sometimes. Did you know at Harvard they have the skull of Phineas Gage, a railroad worker who survived…"

"To the end of one of your stories?" Tony finished. He flinched away from Gibbs' raised hand. "Sorry. _I_ love Ducky's stories, but I just thought the audience was a little bigger and closer than he'd prefer at the moment."

Gibbs turned and noted that the curious local LEOs had moved much closer, allowing the crowd of gawkers to do the same. Included in the group were quite a few Marines from the nearby base who didn't need the impression that Foster's case was being taken lightly. He walked up to the closest uniformed officers, one of whom was loudly saying, "At least they got that witness. That always makes it easier."

Gibbs leveled a glare at them and ordered, "Back these people up."

One of the Marines in the crowd suddenly shouted, "It's one of ours, isn't it?"

After a brief series of conversations with the grunts present, Gibbs stepped back through the imaginary barrier to where Palmer was helping Ducky transfer the body onto the gurney. He seized Tony's shoulder and pulled him out of his crouch. "What do you have so far?"

"Wallet's missing, but I doubt robbery was the motive. You don't stab a guy in the brain if all you want is his credit cards. And Ducky said there's no defensive wounds, so…I mean, even a drunk Marine isn't letting too many pointy objects near him without some kind of reaction."

"He was not drunk," Ziva said, appearing at Tony's shoulder. "The bartender of the restaurant across the street said that Cpl. Foster was drinking Sprite. He also appeared to be waiting for a person who did not arrive. He gave up after an hour. The bartender said he left just before five-thirty."

"Just in time to get murdered," Gibbs muttered. Raising his voice, he said, "None of the men I talked to were friendly with him. Couldn't tell me if he had any enemies either."

"The restaurant seemed to have a lot of tables for two. Perhaps he had an angry girlfriend or wife who stood him up and waited for him outside."

"Ziva, someone shoved a knife into his brain through his eye. I don't think a girl could do that." Tony immediately caught his mistake himself and corrected, "I mean a regular girl, so don't even think you're gonna demonstrate any ninja-girl proof on me."

Gibbs, who didn't correct either of them with the information that the witness had identified the attacker as male, was about to walk away to check in with McGee, still canvassing the block, when Tony shouted, "Boss!"

The next thing he knew, shots were being fired as he struggled to get off the ground. Whatever was keeping him pinned was clearly doing the same to Ziva, lying beside him. She shouted, "Tony, get off me!"

Gibbs was fairly certain Tony wasn't obeying the command when the weight lifted a second later, as he was sprinting into the crowd shouting, "Make a hole!"

Springing from the ground, Gibbs did a quick survey of the scene, making sure none of his people were hurt before following Ziva. By the time he caught up, she was helping Tony pulled a handcuffed man off the sidewalk down the street. He grinned as he leaned over to pick up a revolver with his jacket sleeve carefully pulled over his hand. "Think it'll match the bullet in our dead Marine, boss?"

"I think it'll match the bullets fired thirty seconds ago, at the very least. Public endangerment."

Tony nodded, guiding their suspect back toward the scene. "Like…" he paused to make sure they were out of earshot, "Ziva's driving."

When the man, who lacked ID and refused to give his name, was safely in the back of a police cruiser, Gibbs walked over to inspect the bullet holes in the rear door of the truck. McGee's head popped out from around the side. "Um, boss, should we have someone take Ms. Haines back to NCIS?"

Gibbs handed him a set of keys. "Yeah. Take her in the car. Go."

He wondered if he should have given more thought to the decision, sitting in the cab of the truck with Tony and Ziva on the way back to base over an hour later. She was leaning into his space in the passenger's seat. "I never even saw a gun. How did you manage to pull both Gibbs and I down before the suspect even showed he had a weapon?"

"Instinct. I saw a guy staring at us and our eyewitness and he had his hand tucked inside his jacket."

"And you tackled us on the off chance he started shooting?"

"Hey, he _did_ start shooting. I worked Homicide in Baltimore for two years. It's not that uncommon for the killer to blend in with the crowd and try to find out what the cops know."

Gibbs ended the conversation by making a hard turn, throwing them both into the passenger's side door. "Behave you two, unless you don't feel like going home early."

In the garage a few minutes later, he overheard Tony say, "You should really thank me for the tackling. Not only did you not get shot, but we get to go home early because we caught the guy."

"The fact that we are leaving early only serves to make up for where you put your hand when you knocked me down."

"I was only thinking about protecting you!"

Gibbs shook his head and pressed the button for the elevator.


	2. Golem

Gibbs was somewhat surprised to find Ziva standing outside of Autopsy when he arrived to see if Ducky had found anything useful. Without turning to look at him, she explained, "He did not like me hovering and asked that I wait outside."

He tried to look over her shoulder through the glass doors without setting off the automatic sensor. Everything looked to be business as usual, with the recently deceased Lt. Cmdr. Gold being subjected to autopsy and Ducky's running commentary. "Some reason he didn't want you in there?" He stopped short of a joke about her wanting to assist with her knife instead of a scalpel; he was glad he'd left Tony upstairs.

She remained with her feet fixed to the floor, standing at an angle that allowed her to observe without being observed. "I believe he felt I was rushing him."

Gibbs tried not to take immediate offense. "Do you have somewhere better to be, Officer David?"

She finally looked at him gravely. "His widow asked that we conduct the investigation as quickly as possible so he can be buried without a long delay."

The red flags shooting up were almost visible. "And you didn't think that was suspicious? Get upstairs and find out everything you can about the wife and why she might want to put a bullet in…"

"We have already confirmed she was in seat 10A on United Airlines flight 7173 from New York at the time of his murder."

Gibbs had no doubt she could rattle off at least another few pages of details regarding the case without actually consulting any notes, but said, "Then go through her phone and bank records! Unless you can think of a damn good reason that she's trying to speed up the process…"

"It is the way things are done," Ziva stated calmly, fiddling with her necklace. "His wife specifically requested…"

"Since when do you take orders from suspects?"

"Even if she is involved, will we not have all the samples and x-rays and…and…whatever else we need by the time Ducky has finished?"

"That's not the point."

"So we arbitrarily hold onto the body without good reason?"

"Ducky might have to go back and re-check something."

"It would only be to confirm something he was already sure of."

Not being entirely sure of the processes that followed tox screens, Gibbs had to concede that particular point. "What's really going on?"

She sighed, continuing to play with her necklace. "I had never met the Golds personally, but they are very highly regarded within the local Jewish community – charitable work and contributions. When I spoke with her she asked me to try and have his body released so it can be buried…"

"Soon, yeah." He looked at her carefully. "Just so we're clear, are you telling me you're giving her a pass because she's a nice Jewish lady?"

"No! I would never suggest that we…I am merely trying to…" She took a few steps down the hall before turning. "I am trying to respect the beliefs of the deceased. The body needs to be purified and buried as soon after death as possible. It is," her voice dropped to an inaudible whisper.

Gibbs felt some of his suspicions dissipate, but his annoyance remained intact. "It's what, Officer David?"

"Written in the Torah, all right? Mrs. Gold saw my necklace when I was interviewing her and gave me the number of the chevra kadisha so they can pick up Lt. Cmdr. Gold's body as soon as we have finished with it. She asked for my word, and I did not feel that I could say no to such an important…we have made exceptions for religious beliefs before, and if it does not compromise the investigation, I do not see why the body cannot be released sooner than…" she trailed off with a sigh.

He waited for the color to disappear from her cheeks before calmly saying, "Some reason you couldn't just say that to begin with?"

"I did," she protested before amending, "though perhaps not in enough words for someone not familiar with Jewish burial customs to appreciate. I am sorry, Gibbs."

"Don't apologize."

"I know, it is a sign of weakness."

"I meant you don't have to apologize for anything. You already confirmed the wife's alibi and now you're trying to respect the victim's beliefs."

She looked at him carefully. "You know I am not religious, but this is important. To the family, I mean."

"I didn't say anything about you." He laid a hand on her shoulder.

"It is not just because he is…"

"Ziva, let's just see how much more time Ducky needs, okay?"

She nodded but retreated to the other side of the hall. "I think it would be best for you to ask."

He entered Autopsy to the greeting, "Ziva, I will be finished as soon as possible, but with the…" Ducky turned. "Oh, Jethro, my apologies. I've just sent the bullet to Abby."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing of significance. He appeared to be in good heath, with the traditional American collection of cholesterol in his arteries, naturally, but no other issue to speak of." Ducky made a face that wasn't quite a frown, waving his gloved hand over the body. "I need to make the smallest incisions possible and ensure that all fluids and tissues not needed for the case are returned to the body, including anything on my instruments and…"

"Ziva told you to do that?"

"What? No, she merely encouraged me to speed the process along because the family was religiously observant. I took the liberty of looking online to see if there were any other procedures of which I should be aware. As it turns out, I'm glad I did."

"You haven't done autopsies on Jewish people before?"

"Well, I'm sure I have, just not within the strict parameters of…it's not a problem, Jethro, it just takes a little getting used to. If anything, I'm actually a bit embarrassed I never thought to check before. I believe I shall be finished within another hour, assuming there's nothing anomalous."

Gibbs nodded. "Lemme know if you need to sneak into Bethesda for another MRI." When he passed Ziva in the hall a few moments later, he reassured her, "No more than another hour."

"Thank you." She caught his arm. "I did tell Mrs. Gold it would not be possible for a rabbi to observe the autopsy, but in the future…"

"Ask Ducky," Gibbs recommended, although the answer would almost assuredly be yes. "And I want you back upstairs after that hour."


	3. Superman

"McGee, I need to know when they intercepted that transmission!" Gibbs shouted, watching the image of the cruiser in the mid-Atlantic displayed on nearly every monitor in MTAC with growing uneasiness. The timing would tell them if the shipment of explosives had already been delivered or was still on its way and the goddamned CIA was being incredibly uncooperative with regard to releasing that information. It had to be a bad thing that he didn't find it unbelievable that those bastards didn't even care if over 350 US sailors died.

McGee sat at the computer station, fingers flying over the keyboard in a blur that couldn't possibly be causing anything coherent to be appearing on the screen, but he replied, "Almost there, boss."

Gibbs spun around. "Ziva, any…"

She held up her hand to indicate that she was still working on it. Tony sat beside her, holding a pile of file folders and poking her in the arm every few seconds. He'd been encouraging her in that manner since Gibbs had ordered him to stop pacing. When she'd concluded her phone call, she said, "My contact says the CIA has a man on the drop-off team. Perhaps they think he would be compromised if they shared…"

"It's a goddamned American ship!" Gibbs spared a glare for Tony, who said nothing. Good man. He increased his pacing speed as he saw Vance appear at the back of the room. "You talk any sense into the CIA, Leon?"

Vance scowled, most likely about being referred to by his first name in front of so many subordinates. "No, but based on the rate you've got McGee operating, it doesn't look like I'll…"

"Got it!" McGee bounced out of his chair. "The drop hasn't occurred yet. We can warn the captain to be on the lookout for it in about twenty minutes."

"That's good work, McGee," Vance said before Gibbs could. "Make sure you cover your tracks."

"Director, I could build a virtual Titanic in their system and they'd never even know," McGee proudly stated, buttoning his jacket.

"Yeah, until it sank." Tony flicked his ear as he and Ziva passed him on their way out the door.

Gibbs didn't bother to wait around in MTAC, denying Vance the chance to dismiss him, and felt slightly guilty that all he offered McGee was a curt nod on the way back downstairs. When he returned from the coffee shop a few minutes later, Tony was leaning against the filing cabinet, watching McGee and saying, "Fingers faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall firewalls in a single, uh…how do you get over those things?"

McGee rolled his eyes, reveling in his field of superiority. "They aren't physical walls, Tony, so you don't really go over them. There's a whole complex series of…"

"I'll give you a dollar to stop explaining right now." Gibbs noted that Tony did not turn over the payment when he made a wide arc that ended at Ziva's desk. "There must be something out there our boy can't hack. We should try to find his computer kryptonite."

She looked up questioningly. "What is…"

"Achilles' heel," Tony cut off her inevitable request for a definition. "His one weakness that can…"

"I _know_ what an Achilles' heel is," she spat back. "Why do we want to know McGee's krypton?"

"Kryptonite, Ziva. Krypton is the planet."

"And in the real world, it's a noble gas," McGee offered, never looking away from his screen, which was now casting a yellow glow over his face.

"You see, Ziva, when Superman arrived on Earth, his…"

"She can watch the movie on her own time, DiNozzo," Gibbs interrupted, not in the mood for a full synopsis no matter how many vessels they'd potentially saved.

"Besides, the reason for Superman's powers varies depending on the source material." McGee finally looked up from whatever he was doing. "And I want that dollar, Tony."

"You can afford to skip the cheese doodles, Probie."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're still spending all that hard-earned writer money on personal training and new clothes even though there's been no sign that _Rock Hollow_ will be hitting shelves anytime soon. I'm just suggesting that you may need to watch your girlish figure."

Ziva suddenly said, "Amputating his fingers, perhaps?"

Gibbs allowed McGee and Tony their shocked, open-mouthed looks before turning on Ziva with a reproving one of his own. "No one is cutting off any fingers."

"I know _that_. I just meant that if we wanted to find a sure way of defeating McGee's computer skills, we would have to resort to drastic measures."

"Um…thank you?" McGee ventured.

Things settled down quickly, with Tony taking a quick break at Ziva's desk to ask in hushed tones, "Think Abby would know how to challenge McGigabyte?"

"I doubt it."

"We could bribe the guys in Cyber Crimes."

"Probably not. Rumor has it they called him 'boss.'"

Tony looked crestfallen. "So you're telling me we can't defeat the mad computer genius?"

"Not where computers were involved."

"Would Moussad…?"

"No. And if you dare him to hack Moussad, I will give them _your_ name." She leaned toward him and whispered in a voice Gibbs could barely overhear, "And once they finish with you, they may hire him as a consultant to improve network security."

Tony pouted and returned to his own desk, just in time for Vance to descend the stairs and announce, "They apprehended the terrorists long before they reached the ship. Good work. Especially you, McGee."

Gibbs was torn between reinforcing Vance's public proclamation and defending the work Ziva and Tony had done to uncover the plot in the first place. He confined himself to another nod of approval. McGee didn't seem to need anything more.

Tony dropped a dollar on his desk, but included a headslap in the transaction. "Don't get cocky, Probie. Wanna come for a drink with us?"

"Maybe I will, Tony. Maybe I will."

Gibbs was sure there was nothing to worry about.


	4. Left Hand of Yahweh

"Who the hell keeps farm animals in the city?" Tony whined, slogging through the backyard of their prime suspect in the Rowland murder. "Boss, is that goat looking at me funny?"

"Shut up," Gibbs hissed, nevertheless agreeing with Tony's assessment – the regret about the involvement of barnyard animals, anyway. He'd had every opportunity to send Ziva and McGee around the back, but he'd had to suggest them taking the front door while he and Tony moved around back to… As a man with no shirt on burst through the back door, he forgot all livestock-related complaints, shouting, "NCIS! Put your hands up!"

The man, who looked like a decidedly scruffier version of their target, immediately surrendered. "Dude, don't shoot! Whatever you do, don't shoot!"

Gibbs pointed Tony through the back door to assist Ziva and McGee as he cuffed the suspect on the rear porch. "Nice to finally meet you, Cpl. Clark."

"Whatever, dude, just get us away from the house before the shit goes up!"

"What are you…?"

From inside the house, he heard Tony say, "Oh, crap, it's a meth lab."

"How do you know?" Ziva asked incredulously.

"I worked in Narcotics in Baltimore for two years," Tony answered, shoving both her and McGee out the door. "The fumes and stuff in here are highly flammable and noxious and whatever else bad stuff that'll require us to be hosed off by hazmat." Gibbs followed them down the steps into the backyard, pushing the handcuffed man ahead of him. "I didn't turn off anything that looked like it was boiling before leaving, so we gotta get somebody here, fast."

"A complete confession would make your life so much easier right about now, Clark." Gibbs wasn't sorry that Clark didn't respond positively to increased pressure on his arms.

As they waited for the hazmat team to arrive, several of the goats in the backyard pen approached the fence. Tony was the first to get uncomfortable. "Anybody see some tin cans we can feed them?"

Ziva, predictably, did not understand. "Why would they eat metal?"

"Uh, they…just do, okay? And then trolls eat them. It's the circle of life."

"It seems a bit ridiculous to feed cans to animals, though." She reached over the fence and scratched one of the goats on the head between its horns. "They seem friendly."

"Then why do goats go to hell?"

"What does that…?"

Tony interrupted her, "Oh, sorry, that's in the wrong half for you, I guess. Hey, here's the hazmat guys!"

When they were in the process of being decontaminated, Ziva turned to Gibbs. "Do goats really eat metal?"

"No idea. I didn't grow up in a town _that_ small."

"I did not mean…"

She was interrupted by Tony's wolf whistle. "Good choice on the t-shirt today, Ziva."

Her brow furrowed as she turned toward him. "The water is cold!"

"It was a compliment! McGee was too shy to say anything and…"

"Hey!"

"Whatever, Probie. I don't think I need to remind you that her face is up _there_."

Ziva didn't even look at McGee, keeping her attention on Tony as she threw her shoulders back. "I am sure the cold water is doing wonders below the waist for you, Tony."

"Heh." He delayed for a few moments before continuing, "I think one of the best things _Seinfeld_ ever did for the world was educate women about shrinkage. Not that a guy like me isn't still impressive, regardless of temperature, but for all the poor saps out there who…"

"Hey!" McGee repeated.

"Way to prove the point, Tiny Tim."

Gibbs was saved from intervening when a man in a blue rubber suit approached them. "Good thing you folks called us. This could have been a real mess if you hadn't recognized the situation."

"Uh huh." Gibbs took an unconscious step out of the way as Tony suddenly ran past, followed by Ziva, who had managed to gain control of one of the hazmat team's portable shower nozzles. Within a few seconds, he had tripped and toppled over the fence, sending goats running.

"Guess we should be even more thankful there wasn't an explosion if those two were inside."

"Well…" Gibbs watched Tony struggle back over the fence and try to fight Ziva for the hose before turning to the man in the hazmat suit. "They're professional when the situation calls for it."

"Sure. Well, you should be clear to leave."

"Thanks." Gibbs began to walk toward his misbehaving agents before thinking better of it. "Hey! If you two are about finished, get in the car and get back to NCIS!"

"But I just got the hose!" Tony complained.

"He does smell like goats, Gibbs," Ziva said seriously, wringing water from her hair.

"Then it's a good thing McGee and I are riding in the other car." Gibbs didn't give them a chance to protest further, muttering as he walked away, "Oughta leave you both with the damn goats."


	5. Athena

Gibbs set his SIG on the ground, motioning for Tony and McGee to do the same. They followed his lead and kicked their weapons across the bare floor of the unfinished apartment complex toward the two men armed with AK-103 assault rifles from the illegally imported crates that NCIS had tracked to this location. The door slammed as the third armed man maintained his position behind them. "That's smart. Maybe you'll all stay alive. Now keep your hands on your heads and lie down on the ground."

Another nod was all it took for Tony and McGee to comply with the order. Gibbs took his time, hoping they'd assume his age forced him to move slower. He was still kneeling when he said loudly and clearly, "I'm sure we can work something out, Lt. Haverbrook."

One of the men in front of him nervously said, "Shit, Buck, they know who we are!"

"Shut up!" Haverbrook wasted no time shoving the muzzle of his weapon into Gibbs' neck. "How d'you know my name?"

"You logged into your personal email account at a base computer."

"Fuck. Is that on file or are you three the only ones who know?"

Gibbs heard an odd series of taps from somewhere behind the wall and smiled. "Four."

"What?"

Gibbs dove forward, hitting the floor just as the drywall crashed inward and the thunder of automatic fire filled the room. When he looked up a moment after silence fell, Ziva towered over him, still brandishing two guns that were definitely not standard NCIS issue. After a moment when no one moved, Tony sprang forward, kicking weapons out of reach before placing two fingers on the necks of each man who'd been waiting to ambush them when they'd entered the room. "Both dead, boss."

"Haverbrook is alive," McGee said.

Gibbs allowed the standard process to proceed, with ambulances and backup and Ducky arriving over the course of the next twenty minutes. He sent Tony to the hospital to keep an eye on Haverbrook, although the precaution was not related to any fear of Haverbrook, with his multiple gut wounds, escaping. When Gibbs felt enough time had passed, he approached Ziva, who had stepped back through her wall shortly after bursting through and remained there. "You gonna put those down anytime soon?"

She looked up, but didn't loosen her grip on the weapons she was still holding. "What?"

"You got those from the crate they opened, right?" She nodded and he gently seized her shoulders. "We need to log those as evidence."

"Oh. Right." She rapidly stripped both, lining up the components in a precise order on workbench and saying as she did so, "I guess I was just remembering. The first weapon I ever fired was a Kalashnikov."

Words of comfort and permission not to feel guilty died on his lips. "Your first gun was an assault rifle?"

"Not mine, exactly." A long silence ensued before she finally continued, "My father had an old AK-47 he'd gotten when…it is not important. I should be…"

Before she shut down completely, Gibbs prompted, almost jealously, "Your father let you shoot with his gun."

"He made me." She took a deep breath and stared at the disassembled weapons in front of her. "I was not supposed to touch it. I was not even supposed to be in his study, but Ari…" she took a deep breath, "dared me. I think he believed I would not do it, but I cannot be sure. Not now."

McGee didn't need help cataloging the arms cache. Gibbs leaned against a beam bearing a jagged edge of drywall on its opposite side. He skipped any comment about Ari. "And your father caught you playing with the AK?"

"No, not playing. I remember just standing there, holding it. It was so heavy. I think once I took it down, I knew I could not lift it back up and…I froze. My father walked into the room and I don't know how long I had been standing there. I was so sure he would yell…"

"What did he do?"

"He took us – the weapon and I – to a firing range. I thought it was just a field at the time, but…anyway, I could not hold the weapon up once he had loaded it, so he had to help me. Even so, the noise and the recoil…I got so scared that I began to cry. I think I fell down as well. And he didn't tell me to stop crying or scold me for failing; he told it was his fault for waiting so long to…I suppose that part of it is my fault. I felt bad for being weak, so I asked to try again a few weeks later. I wanted to impress him. He let me use his Glock when…" Her eyes lost the cloudy aura of reminiscence. "Do we have to talk about this?"

Gibbs made an effort to keep his hands in his pockets and not to throw an arm around her shoulders. "Nope."

"Thank you."

"But I do expect you to…"

"I will get the boxes." She was very quiet for the rest of the time spent at the scene.

Tony was waiting when they returned to the squad room. "Hey, boss, got a probie sitting on Haverbrook in the ICU. And there's Ziva, warrior princess." He elbowed her in the ribs in an over-compensative gesture. "I'll buy you a burger after work if you promise not to use your round killing thing on me."

"What?"

"Nothing. It was a dumb TV show, anyway. Burger, though, right?"

"Sure."

Gibbs beckoned him over when Ziva slipped away to the head later in the day. "Don't push it, DiNozzo."

"What? I haven't said anything all evening! And that includes complaining about being stuck here well into the evening."

"I mean at dinner. Don't piss her off."

"Hey, you know me!"

"Exactly."

"I was gonna say that all you have to do is ask."

Gibbs eyed him critically, but said nothing, as Ziva had returned. "That's enough for today. I'll see you all at 0700." The flight was immediate.

"I will catch up, " Ziva called to Tony as he and McGee disappeared into the elevator. Gibbs gave her time to ensure that no one was listening in. "Gibbs, about earlier, I know I do not have to ask, but…"

"I wouldn't bring it up unless…"

"I won't," she stated firmly.

"Then I won't either." As she left, he wondered if it wasn't the right approach.


	6. Cabbage Patch Kid

"No. You sat in front on the way here, so I get to sit in front on the way back."

"You are so childish!"

"Hey, I'm the one in favor of fairness!"

"Only because it benefits you."

"It's _fairness_. It's an abstract concept that benefits society as a whole."

"How does you shoving me out of your way to get to the front seat benefit anyone but you?"

"I didn't shove you. It was more like a gentle nudge in the direction of the backseat where you should have volunteered to sit after I graciously allowed you the front on the way over."

"_Allowed_ me?"

"That's enough." Gibbs tapped his fingers impatiently on the roof of the Charger, tired of Tony and Ziva's argument. This had to be the reason he usually just sent them off together in a separate vehicle – or it would be the reason any time he did it in the future. "DiNozzo, take the front. Ziva…you can punch him or something once we get back."

"Thank you, Gibbs!" Her face lit up as she bounded toward the back door.

Tony was far less eager. "Yeah, thanks, boss."

"You could have offered her the front and saved yourself the trouble." Gibbs sat in the driver's seat, waiting for Tony to try and negotiate his way into switching with Ziva. "It's too late, DiNozzo. Just get in the car."

"Sorry. Did you really have to tell her she could punch me?"

"At least now you know what the retaliation for shoving her out of the way will be."

"I…" Tony looked over his shoulder at the sound of cracking knuckles from the back. "Yeah, really can't thank you enough for that, boss."

The ride proceeded quietly, aside from the occasional gasps from Tony when Gibbs made perfectly safe turns or lane changes, until a wall of traffic on the highway forced them to slow to a crawl. He smacked the heel of his hand against the wheel when no one allowed him to cut across all four lanes to the exit ramp that would only take them ten minutes out of the way. Anything was better than sitting in this. "Did Daylight Savings end and push rush hour up?"

"Probably a jack-knifed tractor trailer," Tony said sagely.

Ziva leaned forward into the front seat. "There is no way you can see that far ahead."

"No," he conceded, "but at this time of day with this much of a backup, it doesn't take a genius. I spent two years on transit detail in Baltimore, so I think I know when…"

Gibbs interrupted, "Remind me again how long you worked in Baltimore, DiNozzo."

Tony assumed the look of a deer caught in headlights. "Oh, well, I…the thing about that is…long enough to…uh…"

"Be clever?" Gibbs finished, recalling the conversation he'd made himself privy to via speakerphone. "How's that working out for you?"

He grinned and Gibbs knew he'd stepped in it. "Well, no imaginary friend whaling on me yet, boss, so I suppose I can keep being clever for the time being." He continued smiling until he seemed to realize that Gibbs was staring. "What?"

The answer came to him like a revelation sans trumpets and flashes of light. "You really have no idea what you are, do you?"

"Uh…"

Gibbs smiled, glad that he himself knew the answer. "At least it works for you."


End file.
